Joe and Ann Pollack, St. Louis' most experienced food writers, lead a tour of restaurants, wines, shops and other interesting places. When we travel, you will travel with us. When we eat, drink, cook, entertain or read, we'll share our knowledge and opinions. Come along for the ride!!
Copyright 2013, Ann Lemons Pollack.

September 24, 2017

Let’s get this out of the way first thing: I can’t recall the last time I saw a toilet onstage. But there it is, upstage left, gleaming and tidy. Interestingly (said the former nurse, who’s heard them all), there aren’t many potty jokes in The Feast. St. Louis Actors’ Studio’s first production of the year was written by John Burroughs grad Cory Finley. It’s about Matt, a struggling artist in Brooklyn and his girlfriend Anna, a successful project manager.

Sound ho-hum? Ha-ha. The joke’s on you. As the play opens, Matt (Spencer Sickmann) answers his door wearing a short pink silk kimono. It’s a plumber he swears he didn’t ask the landlord for. Anna (Jennifer Theby-Quinn) did, though; that toilet is making some very strange noises, according to the work order, including sounding like someone is down in there groaning. Plumber can’t find anything; life moves on, but not in what might be called regular order. Oh, it’s chronological, alright, but that’s about the only thing that’s regular.

To those of a certain age, it’s easiest to compare Feast to something out of the old television show The Twilight Zone. That’s pretty high praise right there. I won’t go much further on the story line, but the fact that Finley manages to happily smack the audience around and get to an ending in 70 minutes is pretty impressive in and of itself, beyond the mesmerizing story. Is Matt psychotic? Is Anna telling him the truth? And are the other people – the plumber, a therapist, a colleague of Anna’s, all played by Ryan Scott Foizey – real? Or maybe they’re real but deceptive.

Sickmann is an utter delight, particularly in a scene with Foizey, no slouch himself, as Foizey plays Anna’s colleague who’s also her (former? current?) boyfriend. Watch the faces, watch the body language for both of them. Lovely detail there, and one of the big reasons that small theaters can be such great venues. Theby-Quinn holds her own in the rapidly-growing-rocky relationship with Matt, but she’s generally the calmest person in the storm.

Patrick Huber’s set and lights play a key role here, and director John Pierson also did the sound – was that Paul Desmond I heard? Pierson orchestrated the tempo of this very well, no lull in things at all except during the brief scene changes, and frankly, both the brains and the heart rates of the audience really do need those.

September 22, 2017

The new theatre kid in town is the Inevitable Theatre Company. (Who could resist the slogan, “Death. Taxes. Theatre. You Can’t Avoid the Inevitable!”?) Their maiden voyage into the St. Louis theatre waters is Unsuspecting Susan at The Chapel.

Donna Weinsting is Susan Chester in this almost-one-woman show. She lives outside of London in a village where her family has been for many years, divorced from the father of her only child, a son now grown. She gardens, she walks the dogs, she acts in local theatrics. No need to go up to London any more often than absolutely necessary, certainly – it’s a quiet, satisfying life.

But what starts out as a rather slight domestic comedy evolves over 80 minutes into something very different. Her son, who lives in London, has had problems since he was, at the very least, an adolescent. The only specific behavior we hear about involves outbursts of smashing things but eventually we learn there were psychiatric hospitalizations and a diagnosis of paranoid schizophrenia. But things, Susan explains, are better now. Things have stabilized and she’s been to visit him and his flatmate several times.

If only he had some actual aim in life, she murmurs, perhaps do a course somewhere. The flatmate, she explains farther on, is such a nice fellow. And the flat is just immaculate. It must be the flatmate, since Simon’s always been untidy. Tea from a lovely metal pot, you see. No, of course, they’re not “that way”, she hastens to add. “That way” does not turn out to be the problem with which she must deal, heralded by an appearance from a young constable (Christina Sittser) who has no lines.

The constable doesn’t really need lines. Director and company founder Robert Neblett has done his own sound design using, among other things, Samuel Barber’s Adagio for Strings, a work sufficiently elegant that it was used at the funeral of Princess Grace. That, and the lighting from JT Taylor, do a first-rate job in telling us what’s going on. Not necessarily as a side note, the wonky acoustics that create havoc at The Chapel are almost completely negated; Weinsting faces her audience and at least for those fairly close to the front of the house, things are excellent.

The denouement is a shocking one, make no mistake. It’s a big performance from Weinsting, especially masterfully done in the stressful moments, carried with a fine balance of emotion and stiff upper lip. Towards the end, the script unfortunately slips into one of those “Is this the ending? No, wait, there’s more. Maybe this? No….” things, but overall it’s a remarkably worthwhile evening.

Hie thee to The Chapel, humming the old Dixie Cups tune as you enter, and settle in for a ride.

September 18, 2017

Are critics harder on shows they know and love – or does their previous affection soften their hearts toward new stagings of them? I have no good answers for that. Nevertheless, I publicly admit that South Pacific is one of my favorite shows, and I argue that it’s the best of any of the Rogers and Hammerstein works. STAGES St. Louis offers it as the final show of their 2017 season. It’s a good chance to see this very emotional show up close, as opposed to the large venues where it’s usually staged.

Yes, emotional: Two love stories and a war, plus really cute kids. Nellie Forbush (Leah Berry), a Navy nurse on a small island in the Pacific, is being wooed by Emile Debecque (Michael Halling), a Frenchman who owns a plantation on the island. A young Marine lieutenant, Joe Cable (Matthew Hydzik), arrives with orders for a dangerous reconnaissance assignment but falls in love with a local girl, Liat (Sydney Jones). Both relationships are cross-cultural, with the added fillip that Debecque has two children by his late wife, who was Polynesian.

Liat’s mother, Bloody Mary (Joanne Javien), is an entrepreneur hustling souvenirs to the military personnel on the base. Her drive is almost matched by Luther Billis (Mark Diconzo), one of the Seabees. (Seabees were members of the Navy construction battalions – CBs.) Billis surely must have been the inspiration for Sergeant Bilko of the eponymous television series, working his own schemes for fun and profit.

Berry gives us a slightly older Forbush but one that never got away from home before, not so relentlessly perky as many earlier Nellies, thus more believable. Halling, as Debecque, sounds so great I’m willing to overlook his lack of chemistry with Berry; it’s easy to forgive body language that’s a little stiff (and a mustache that doesn’t look decade-appropriate) when he starts to sing. Hydzik’s Philadelphia Main-Line Cable feels right as he shows his approach-avoidance conflict. Jones’ Liat will loosen her initial stiffness as the show’s run goes on – it works in the initial scenes but needs to relax as the two fall in love.

The secondary cast here is remarkably strong. Diconzo, as Luther, is clearly a guy of the streets, strong and mentally quick, and Javien’s Bloody Mary doesn’t need to whine to let us see her motivation. She tears up “Bali Hai”, just one of the many, many stunning songs in the score. Farther down the line, John Flack, as Captain Brackett, the CO, and Steve Isom, as Commander Harbison, Brackett’s executive officer, have fun with things, especially Flack’s lovely tirade on older men still having a good time. Having a good time is something the Seabees are big on; they surely seem to enjoy themselves, and on the night I was there, “There Is Nothing Like a Dame” was the first explosive applause of the show. Given the last chord of the song, alone, it’s understandable.

Michael Hamilton directed and staged the show with Ellen Isom’s choreography, especially fun in the Thanksgiving show numbers. The relatively minimalist set from James Wolk works very well indeed, thanks in no small part to Sean M. Savoie’s lighting.

September 10, 2017

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time has opened Repertory Theatre of St Louis’ 51st season. What a fascinating show it is, showing the work that must have gone into it for much of the summer. Based on the bestselling novel of the same name, it tells the story of a teenaged boy who is not specifically described as being on the autism spectrum but obviously is. He lives in the English city of Swindon, a notoriously humdrum place, with his father and goes to goes to a special school.

Narelle Sissons’ set, seemingly the school, is one of those that appear at first glance to be quite simple. That impression won’t last long. Not only does furniture get moved around, the walls themselves become a drawing board and a version of one of those Advent calendars where doors open and drawers come out to reveal things. The set is, in many ways, a part of the cast.

Speaking of the cast – of whom more in a moment, of course – the movement of the cast is complex enough to use an associate choreographer, Michael Baxter. To call it blocking is to understate things. It must have been like working with a small marching band spelling out Chinese characters on a tennis court.

And then there’s David Bullard’s sound, which becomes an increasing part of the story, not just setting the mood but adding layers to the experience of the boy, whose name is Christopher Boone.

At the start of the play, Christopher has discovered his neighbor’s dog, impaled by a four-pronged pitchfork called a sprong, in the neighbor’s garden. She accuses him of the act and calls the local constable. This doesn’t go well, as Christopher can’t tolerate being touched, a problem that clearly outweighs his insistence that he only tells the truth. (And he does, frequently causing more problems.) Christopher liked the dog, and, Sherlock Holmes fan that he is, insists that he will investigate and find out whodunit. Not as simple as it sounds, even allowing for Christopher’s limitations and gifts.

Christopher is played by Nick LaMedica. It’s exquisite work on his part, tiny details carefully thought out, the big stuff seemingly happening as naturally as breathing. Kathleen Wise gives Siobhan, a teacher at the school who acts as a semi-narrator, a crisp approach that feels very right with the unemotional Christopher. Jimmy Kiefer’s father really doesn’t seem to understand Christopher at all, but is clearly determined to do his best anyway, trying to keep things calm until he gets stressed out.

Everyone but La Medica (but including Baxter) also works as part of the ensemble whose movement is so remarkable. Some of them play as many as six different people. The various accents work really well, most very crisply enunciated, lines that produce gasps or laughs seamlessly flying out with fine timing.

The sound, the movement of the ensemble and the set all sometimes give us insight into just how overwhelmed Christopher’s mind is with the outside world’s stimuli. The first production of the play, from Great Britain’s National Theatre, which went to New York had more technical dazzle, I understand, to mark that idea. What the Rep has given us is outstanding. Its take on it allows the characters and indeed the humanity of it all to be emphasized more. This is not a big, show-y show. But it’s a remarkable one, and a memorable one.

August 25, 2017

“White nights” refers to the long, lingering twilights occur at far northern (and southern, of course) latitudes such as Russia. A gathering of people having tea just before dusk is happening several times currently in town.It’d be a good idea to join them.

Rebels and Misfits’ Immersive Theatre Project is giving us an utterly charming take on Chekhov with Uncle Vanya: Valiantly Accepting Next Year’s Agony. Staged in a private home in Ladue that’s now occupied by the Serebryakovs and their guests and staff – a lovely dacha far from the nearest town – it manages to make Chekhov downright lighthearted at times.

Both through Kelly Hummert’s direction and the excellent casting, it seems not unreasonable to believe we’re at that dacha, not a handsome mid-20th century home. Retired literature professor Serebryakov (Peter Mayer), who had been widowed, and his much younger and very beautiful second wife Yelena (Sophia Brown) have come to live there. It’s a largish property that also houses his daughter from the earlier marriage Sonia (Francesca Ferrari), the mother-in-law from that marriage (Suzanne Greenwald), and his late wife’s brother, Ivan, known as Vanya (Andrew Michael Neiman). Dr. Astrov (Jim Butz) is a frequent visitor, and there’s the nanny for the multiple generations (Donna Weinsting) and Waffles, a fellow who lives on the land (Kent Coffel).

Don’t worry about keeping the Russian names straight in your head. You’re not going to get these characters mixed up. And for all the characters that seem frequently to complain of boredom, things move smoothly, and, thanks to the setting, it’s easy to believe that we’re just invisible sprites watching this family work their way through love and lust and ennui.

It is indeed a cast crackling with energy that sparks at both the expected times and the unexpected. Jim Butz’ monologue in the kitchen is marvelous and his interaction with a beeping appliance is fully, hysterically, in character. I suspect the malfunctioning appliance is a one-time phenomenon, but there’s enough improv chops in this crowd that there’s more where this came from. Brown’s steaminess is well-controlled but easily identified, helped along by Christina Sittser’s costumes, including Brown’s slituptohere dresses, making for easy striding and flouncing. Mayer’s aging professor, a man who wants the help to address him as “Your Excellency”, grouses and grumbles and glares as we try to discover if he’s really the great man, or if he’s just fooling everyone including himself.

Neiman’s Vanya comes to us as a fascinating guy, not quite verging on being a ne’er do well, but having more-or-less contentedly been spinning his wheels these past decades despite his apparent intellect. Ferrari’s Sonia, aside from her one obvious passion, is a woman of mystery, a quiet facade almost completely covering competence and energy. Weinsting’s nanny has a good time running the tea party and tossing in the occasional pointed remark.

This is a production with great zip, beautifully conceived and executed. The location and specifics are on the website – see the section titled Rules of Engagement. Because of the size of the venue, tickets will be limited, and it sounds like they can’t be bought at the door, or, in this case, the driveway. Wear flat shoes; you’ll be walking on a lawn for a bit.

August 10, 2017

What fun it is to go to a show about which you’re hesitant – and come out grinning from ear to ear. Stages St. Louis’ current show is 9 to 5 The Musical, and for those of us who delighted in the movie, it was holding-our-breath time to see what surgery had been done.

Hooray, it’s as much fun as its parent.

If you missed the film, here’s the story – three women are working in an office in the late Seventies. Technically, they’re all secretaries, but Violet (Corrine Melancon) is a supervisor, and Judy ((Laura E. Taylor) a new hire. The third, Doralee (Summerisa Bell Stephens), is private secretary to Franklin Hart (Joe Cassidy) the big boss. Hart is dazzlingly offensive in everything from language (both condescending and moderately obscene) to grabs and leers and peering up skirts. Comeuppance is bound to happen. The use of the word “bound” is not by chance.

Dolly Parton wrote the title song and played Doralee in the film, then wrote the entire score for the musical. It sounds like her, with lyrics that are very relatable. Stephens does indeed channel Parton, and that’s not at all a complaint. The role was written for Parton, and Stephens’ delivery and the lines as written nail things perfectly – when she’s asked whether her breasts are real, her response is, “They’re as real as the hair on my head!” Hart, the lech, has told people at the office that she’s his mistress, but she’s not, and doesn’t know what he’s said.

Violet had Hart pass her over for promotions many times. She’s fed up. Melancon takes the role and makes it her own, a strong-but-struggling single mom flailing at her boss. She’s much closer to Allison Janney, who originated the role on Broadway, than to Lily Tomlin, who did the movie. Judy, the rookie whose husband has just left her for his 19-year-old secretary, has a fantasy scene, “The Dance of Death”, and Taylor particularly shines in the sudden change from hesitant to siren. The trio carry off the banter and physical comedy with considerable flair.

Cassidy’s Hart is a toxic waste zone, nothing to recommend him, not even style. He takes his liberties as though it were a birthright, so calm about much of it that it becomes even more believable than if more scenery-chewing were involved. Spooky – and realistic.

The women in the office are delightful. An almost unrecognizable Kari Ely is Roz Keith, a spy for Hart who explains her adoration for him in “Heart to Hart” . Regulars will recognize Zoe Vonder Haar as Margaret, the office lush, another high-spirited participant in the fun. And Steve Isom, as Judy’s wandering husband, dons the awful fashions of the era to great effect. I only wonder that they didn’t garb him in a full Cleveland, but Brad Musgrove’s costumes do very well indeed.

Michael Hamilton the theatre’s artistic director, led this production and did the staging. Dana Lewis’ choreography emphasizes the amusing and incongruous sight of guys in business suits dancing. It’s a simple-seeming set from James Wolk but gets a little more complex when it comes to comeuppance for Hart.

This is an absolute delight, with a story that comes roaring through and a cast that does it full justice. And, I might add, fairly timely, even now.

August 09, 2017

The 21st century did not invent “fake news”. (As the widow, mother, mother-in-law, and stepmother of journalists, and in the interest of full disclosure, I will say the phrase makes my skin crawl.) It was going on in the United States even before the 20th century. Late in the 1890’s newspaper wars, particularly in New York City, practiced what came to be known as yellow journalism. The origin of the phrase is arguable, but in general it referred to sensationalizing stories or slanting them, sometimes quite precipitously, to gain readership and/or to push an agenda. To be fair, the papers also carried stories that were accurate and free of bias, but it was the front page that drove circulation in the competition between William Randolph Hearst’s New York Journal and Joseph Pulitzer’s New York World.

That latter name sound familiar? Yes, the World was the second paper bought by Pulitzer. His first was the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, two newspapers he combined under one banner. Pulitzer is a pivotal character in the final show of the Muny’s 99th season, Newsies the Musical.

Newspapers in New York in those days were mostly hawked by newsboys, known as newsies. They bought each “pape”, as they apparently called them, from the paper itself, at half the price they charged and then re-sold them. A hot headline drove sales, of course. Pulitzer, declaiming about profits, decided to raise the price he charged the newsies. Other papers followed, leading to a two-week strike, which the young workers won.

That’s the story line in Newsies, which introduces us to Jack Kelly (Jay Armstrong Johnson) and his pal Crutchie (Daniel Quadrino). Kelly’s the guy who comes up with the idea of the strike and fires up his band of adolescents, perhaps a little too old to be called ragamuffins, but certainly poor kids supporting themselves and living on the streets or helping support their families. They decide to form a union, helped by a new arrival, Davey (Spencer Davis Milford) and his little brother Les (Gabriel Cytron). The new guys’ father also worked for Pulitzer’s World but was let go after he was injured at work. As the idea begins to gather steam, a reporter – a woman! - appears, asking questions. Katherine Plumber (Tessa Grady) wants to move on from the society pages to serious news, and thinks this story could give her traction.

There’s plenty of interaction with Pulitzer (Davis Gaines) himself, plus his henchmen, as well as a successful Bowery theater owner, Medda Larkin (Ta’Rea Campbell), who sympathizes with the kids, and Medda’s friend, the governor of the state of New York, Theodore Roosevelt (Thad Turner Wilson) – whose election the Pulitzer paper had opposed. (Roosevelt, for those unfamiliar with his pre-presidential background, was quite a reformer.)

This is a Disney show, created after the slow-growing success of the movie of the same name, although changed and with some alteration of the score. Still, it’s a good bet that this is going to have a happy ending, and sure enough, that’s what we get, along with some laughs, and what may be the most athletic choreography of the Muny year from Chris Bailey, who also directed the production.

Johnson and Grady have terrific chemistry once the spark is finally lit, fun after their initial verbal fencing. Good work from Quadrino as the sidekick and Campbell who has a great number called “That’s Rich”. The rookie in the crowd, young Gabriel Cytron, carries things off flawlessly – he’s a charmer in the role. Gaines’ Pulitzer foregoes the Hungarian accent and feels very Wall Street.

Michael Schweikardt’s set is spare, befitting the poverty and slightly dusty newspaper dock where much of this takes place. But the video design of Greg Emetaz is rather splendid, lots of old photographs and paper-turning to reveal yet more. This is Bailey’s directorial debut. I am sure we’ll see a lot more from him.

Interestingly, by the mid-20th century, the Pulitzer family was very union-friendly and the Post-Dispatch’s union employees felt valued and were well taken care of. The sale to Lee Enterprises changed all that, but those kids who went on strike left a mark that lived on after them. At least for a while.

August 07, 2017

Is He Dead? could well be described as a melodrama of manners. St. Louis Shakespeare has brought in director Ed Coffield, a guy possessed of a fine hand with comedy, to handle this Mark Twain story, found only a few years ago and turned into a play by David Ives. Let me tell you, it’s pretty darned funny.

The artist Jean-Francois Millet, or, more accurately, Twain’s idea of him seen fifty years or so later, is at the center of the play. He’s young, struggling, and like all his friends, in debt to a scoundrel art dealer/loan shark. His pals persuade him to manufacture his death and pose as his widowed sister.

It’s a delightful cast, obviously carefully chosen for their fine dentition, as chewing the scenery is called for right and left. There’s nothing wrong with that; we’re not talking Arthur Miller or Eugene O’Neill here. Zac McMillan (above, left) is both Millet and Daisy, his “sister”. McMillan is fun to watch, especially in drag, and his posse keep up their ends of the bargain by running interference for him. They’re Chicago, Jack Zanger, with an unexplained Southern accent, O’Shaughnessy from Jacob Cange, and Dutchy, John Fisher, whose Germanic accent occasionally slipped into Irish early on, but whose body language and singing voice in one short scene, more than made up for things.

Ben Ritchie (above, right) gives us Bastien Andre, a classic villain, complete with curled moustache, swirling cape and fabulous eyebrows. (Extra points to sound designer for the great entrance theme for him.) Molly McCaskill is Millet’s girlfriend and Natalie Walker her sister with a thing for Chicago-the-Southerner, roles they seem to delight in; their father M. Leroux is Timothy Callahan, whose health improved remarkably when his debts were paid. Nicole Angeli and Jennifer Quinn carry their considerably less ladylike personae with high spirits and a notable amount of makeup and quaffing.

The guy with the most hats to wear, though, is Joe Cella, whose chapeaus included a crown. Between buttleing, reporting, reigning and a few other gerunds, he must have had a fine time, managing to outline all his characters with particularly bold strokes.

No moral uplift, no social message, a certain amount of slamming doors and off-color jokes. Just what we need this summer, I say. It’s almost illegally fun.

August 06, 2017

Could someone please figure out how to hook up Stray Dog Theatre’s new production of Ragtime The Musical to an energy cell? They’re generating enough voltage to keep the lights burning all over south St. Louis with this show.

The musical, based on E. L. Doctorow’s best-selling novel of the same name (and a strong recommendation for that, if you haven’t read it), takes place in the early years of the 20th Century, spinning together the lives of three disparate families. Throw in Harry Houdini, Evelyn Nesbit, Emma Goldman, Booker T. Washington and that new kind of music known as ragtime, and what have you got?

What you have is like a nuclear reaction, carefully controlled but with immense power. Director Justin Been handles the largest cast in SDT’s history, 26 people, with precision and strength. The blocking alone – think about moving that many people around on the small stage at Tower Grove Abbey – must have kept him up nights. But it works. In fact, it thrills.

An affluent white family lives in the New York suburb of New Rochelle. Father (Phil Leveling) makes patriotic things like fireworks and bunting. Mother (Kay Love) raises The Little Boy (Joe Webb), Mother’s Younger Brother (Jon Bee) lives with them and is the fireworks creator. Mother finds a baby on their doorstep, abandoned, and when the police are called, the cops discover the mother (Evan Addams) hiding in a shed on the property. She’s a young African-American woman who is at first almost mute. The baby’s father is Coalhouse Walker, Jr. (Omega Jones), a pianist who works in Harlem. At the same time, arriving at Ellis Island are the widower Tateh (Jeffrey M. Wright) and The Little Girl, his daughter (Avery Smith).

Someone behind me was puzzled that there wasn’t a story synopsis in the program. It’s not that the story is complicated; it’s just very involved to weave all these people together. The weaving makes a deeply complex pattern, not difficult to figure out but engrossing. More importantly, it’s relevant in a very contemporary way, talking about society and justice and opportunity, the sort of thing that theatre can do so well.

I admit that because I saw this show about two weeks after it opened on Broadway with Audra McDonald and Brian Stokes Mitchell and a shining authentic Model T Ford onstage, I’m probably fussy about things. But Omega Jones’ Coalhouse Walker is incredible. His acting, his singing, makes this a major performance. Evan Addams’ Sarah, the mother of his childhas a marvelous voice, and pairs it to good effect working with Jones. Kay Love, as Mother, is strong, self-controlled, only her face and hands occasionally signaling her nearly supressed emotions. Her son, Joe Webb, is a delight, not cutesy, but a calm and mostly self-possessed young gentleman.

Tateh, the Yiddish name for “father”, is perhaps the most endearing adult in the play, who warmth and charm Wright evinces in both dialogue and song. Laura Kyro plays Emma Goldman, showing off the proper motherly firebrand Goldman should be. Evelyn Nesbit, here a precursor of the modern-day boopsie, is Angela Bubash, having lots of fun with things.

More kudos? Of course. The set, far more complex than it looks upon entering the theater, is from scenic designer David Blake, who provides lots of levels and passages for the considerable movement. And movement there is, onstage and off-, with even more action than usual in the aisles of the theater, plus Mike Hodges’ choreography. Eileen Engel’s costumes, particularly for the character of Mother, are notable. It’s a fine score from Stephen Flaherty and Lynn Ahrens, overseen by music director Jennifer Buchheit.

This is not a perfect show – there are a few vocal glitches, and occasionally the sound needed some fine tuning. But Terrence McNally’s script, while not pretending to be historically accurate, reminds us that all Americans, whether newly arrived and full of hope and fear, or those who aren’t of majority groups or even WASPS, belong here and have much to contribute. It’s a rousing, satisfying evening – or afternoon. In fact, it may be the best thing Stray Dog has ever produced. Sales seem good – here’s hoping they will extend the run. (And if this is your first time, be aware parking spots go early and it’s open seating.)

July 24, 2017

The second half of 2017’s LaBute New Theater Festival is on the boards, and they’re very close to three for three with this collection. Instead of four short plays, this group is three short ones, beginning with Hate Crimes, the LaBute play he’s written to lead this year’s fest (which I wrote about here). I continue to ponder whether the motivations of the two characters are actually as (relatively) simple as one might think. If one ponders the eternal question that follows stories of a certain sort, “What happened next?”, there are still multiple possibilities.

The second play, Cary Pepper’s How’s Bruno, seems simple enough, a coffee shop, a guy with a computer and a cell phone – and a random text. It quickly morphs into some very funny absurdist stuff, delivered with knife-like precision by Chauncy Thomas, Ryan Lawson-Maeske, Reggie Pierre and Spencer Sickmann, under the direction of Nancy Bell. There are faint intimations of Men in Black, but it goes far beyond that. The whole thing’s an absolute delight, both the script and the acting.

After the intermission comes the longest piece of the evening. Tearrance Chisholm’s Sin Titulo. A living room is full of political signs from the last two presidential campaigns. Reggie Pierre’s character is a political operative who’s gloomy over the Democratic loss in 2016. Patrice Foster, a newcomer to St. Louis audiences, plays his wife, who has a down-and-out brother, Jaz Tucker. Pierre’s state of mind seems to be more than just gloom, and Tucker’s character struggles on several levels. But it’s Foster’s work that satisfies the most, glowing and strong and utterly real. Pierre’s work is, as always, rewarding, and Tucker’s character’s paranoia is carefully, beautifully shown off. Linda Kennedy has created some fine ensemble work with her directing.

It’s a very political play, not surprisingly, although there’s relatively little actually referring to the last election. The issues are deeper than that, and especially since the play is set in St. Louis, they should resonate more with local audiences. I wished only for an ending that seemed more tied in to the rest of the play. With a little work, this is a script that could definitely go places.

July 22, 2017

If the last time you saw The Unsinkable Molly Brown was in, oh, the Eighties, don’t think the current production at the Muny is the same old same old. It was frequently done there from the Sixties through the Eighties, but here, with the permission of the estate of Meredith Willson (Music Man), Broadway writer Dick Scanlan has created a new version.

The story has been changed, to make a more historically accurate version. Other Willson songs, some unheard before, have been used in addition to many of the original ones. (Don’t fret; “I Ain’t Down Yet” is still in.) Scanlan has also added some new lyrics

Beth Malone is Molly, the tomboy-ish, plain-spoken, dirt-poor girl from Hannibal who comes to Colorado in search of a better life. It’s a triumphant performance, swaggering and cajoling and taking charge of her own life. And she sounds great. J.J. Brown, the miner she marries as they struggle and who ends up rich, is played by Marc Kudisch, who did the role with Sutton Foster as the new version was being created. He’s quite splendid, warm despite some bluster, extremely believable. It’s a very large ensemble that works very smoothly, but a little extra credit to Whitney Bashor, as Julia, who becomes Molly’s first friend, to the three miners who are buddies of J.J., Justin Guarini, Paolo Montalban and David Abeles, and to Donna English, who plays Baby Doe Tabor, a woman whose real-life story was almost as dramatic as Molly Brown’s.

It was terribly hot opening night. Folks who left at the intermission, though, got shortchanged. The new Unsinkable turns out to be one of those rare musicals whose second act is better than the first. The first is the rags-to-riches part of the Browns’ life, feeling vaguely like a miners’ version of Oklahoma! It just lacks much pizaaz beyond Molly’s well-known signature song. But the second act, when Molly shows herself to be concerned not only with making headway with Denver’s upper crust but with the lower spectrum of society, those who struggle as she once had. It changes the feeling of the show considerably, as Molly attempts to be true to herself, yet keep a turn-of-the-century marriage healthy. She was ahead of her time in many ways, women’s suffrage, animal shelters, juvenile justice and even an episode of immigration enforcement as she landed after the Titanic sinking. (The latter brought scattered applause from the audience.)

Kathleen Marshall, who’s worked with this version of Unsinkable from early on, directed and did the choreography. It was another opening night with mic problems, this time with various performers throughout the evening, always brief, thankfully, but persistent. Paul Tazewell’s costumes, from tattered to elaborate, contributed considerably. Derek McLane and Paul Tate dePoo III’s scenic design, too, ranges from a mine (harder than one would think, I suspect) to a lovely rendering of Paris. Lots of wig work for Leah J. Loukas.

And one last thing as we slog through a St. Louis July: A(nother) standing ovation for those wonderful people who banded together to buy the Muny the silent fans which make such a difference in this torrid weather. We are grateful.

July 15, 2017

It’s amusing to ponder what the Twenty-somethings are thinking if they see All Shook Up!. It opened Thursday at the Muny. Certainly the story, which is very, very loosely based on Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night, talking about love among the young (and even the not-so-young) might appeal to them. But how does the music of five decades or so in the past translate? Because this is the music of Elvis Presley.

It’s hard to equate Presley with, say, the Beatles, to move forward in time, or Frank Sinatra, to move backwards. Sinatra sang, and helped create, the Great American Songbook. The Beatles wrote and recorded songs that have become standards. Presley...well, he’s given partial authorship credit on a number of these songs, although I don’t know if that’s one of those things that his manager “Colonel” Tom Parker, manipulated in order to increase Presley’s (and thus Parker’s) income. (That was common in the first years of rock ‘n roll.) But there are many songs that are so identifiable with Presley that, even if they were covered by other artists – or began with someone else, like Carl Perkins and “Blue Suede Shoes” - they are his. Much of the score of All Shook Up is those songs. Do they fit? Does a show that combines Presley and Shakespeare fly?

Danged if it doesn’t work pretty well.

The action occurs in a small Midwestern town in the summer of 1955. A young man named Chad (Tim Rogan) appears on a motorcycle, which is not running well. The town’s motorcycle mechanic is the teenaged Natalie (Caroline Bowman), who is gobsmacked by the newcomer. She’s been oblivious to her nerdy buddy Dennis (Barrett Riggins), who’s clearly wild about her, but about to leave for college without declaring himself. Her widowed father (Lara Teeter) often drops by the local cafe/roadhouse run by Sylvia (Liz Mikel), whose daughter Lorraine (Ciara Alyse Harris) is a pal of Natalie’s. And then there’s the busybody wealthy mayor (Hollis Resnik) who’s busy enforcing her idea of moral leadership. (We seem to be having a run of those women on local stages this year.) She ships her teenaged son Dean (Paul Schwensen) off to military school, so she has plenty of time to tell everyone else how sinful they’d be were it not for her.

Rock and roll must inflame passion, according to the mayor – and it certainly seems to be doing that here. Even the newly-arrived museum curator (Felicia Finley), the sexy version of a librarian, is sizzling. There’s lots of sighing and eyeing and teasing and flirting, but things are mostly quite family-friendly.

Happily, the score uses arrangements that are close to the originals, which makes it more fun for folks who are familiar with them. Purists (I know who you are!), though, will express dismay that these are shortened versions. The voices are good, and Rogan doesn’t even begin to try to approximate The King’s sound. I particularly liked the “Teddy Bear/Hound Dog” medley with Rogan, Finley, Riggins and Bowman. It’s also fun to watch Lara Teeter, who’s choreographed so much around town, back on stage playing a dad and dancing in dad clothes.

As to the acting – well, if you can sell sexual chemistry far enough away that it can be sensed in a venue the size of the Muny, you must be doing something right. There’s plenty of it with all the young ‘uns, and even Finley, the sizzling curator, who appears a decade or so older than them, exudes it.

Despite a couple of tech problems opening night when mics weren’t working, the visuals are a delight. Director Dan Knechtges’ vision of the show gives us more of a 360-degree experience than we usually get at the Muny, like the motorcycle roaring down one of the side ramps. Luke Cantarella’s sets, particularly the amusement park, are particularly wonderful, and the video screen is a significant contributor to things. John Lasiter’s lights accentuate it all.

This is not a show for the ages, there’s no question about that. But it’s different than most of the jukebox musicals, which so often lapse into the “And then I wrote...” school of storytelling. It’s a fun evening.

July 12, 2017

On Golden Pond is rather more disconcerting than its general reputation implies. The play, by a 28-year-old Ernest Thompson, shows us a long-term marriage between a retired English professor and his patient wife. There’s a certain aww, cute aura about it that the play’s script frequently knocks off-kilter, if not intermittently obliterates altogether. Insight Theatre Company’s current interpretation gives such the off-kilter attitude center stage.

Joneal Joplin is Norman Thayer, who’s just arrived at the old family cottage on a lake in New England. His wife of 48 years, Ethel, is played by Susie Wall. Norman seems focused on his own aging and death. He’s irascible, and not in a charming way. Their only child, Chelsea (Jenni Ryan), hasn’t seen them in years, and considering Norman’s tongue, it isn’t terribly surprising. He talks so much about dying that we begin to wonder if he’s gotten a terminal diagnosis. Or is he just depressed, anger being a not-uncommon symptom of depression? No matter what the reason, he rails about and invokes stereotypes for groups like Jews, lesbians and Italian-Americans. Ethel cheerfully refers to him as “an old poop”.

Norman’s memory is beginning to slip beyond absent-mindedness, and Joplin’s handling of this reaches deep and hits home. It’s not the theme of the play, although it could have been. His truculent relationship with his daughter (Jenni Ryan), who arrives with her new boyfriend (Eric Dean White) and his 15-year-old son (Michael Pierce), and the far more balanced one with his wife are the core of things.

Joplin, a St. Louis mainstay for umpty-ump years, wears the role like a second skin, glaring one minute and distracted the next, but never seriously going after his wife the way he has his daughter. Wall is rather like the Maytag washer in the old commercial, mostly calm and utterly, totally reliable, but it’s far from a stagnant performance from her. Ryan’s Chelsea has little fire but that could be directorial choice, using it to placate her father. White, as her fiancee, is willing to speak up to Norman, asking a couple of pointed questions, but done in high WASP style. The bounciness comes from Pierce, who seems curious enough to give up his electronics and end up staying with the older Thayer’s while Chelsea and his father go to Europe. The engaging Pierce is fun to watch as he expands Norman’s vocabulary and learns to fish.

The cabin, from Matt Stuckel, looks comfy, with a fabulous electronic window, and Geordy Van Es’ lights are a good part of things. Particular kudos to Robin Weatherall’s sound, in a space where that sometimes is difficult. Please note that the pillars in this venue can interfere with sight lines, so theatre-goers need to choose their seats accordingly.

Trish Brown directed this first-rate ensemble. I just wish Thompson’s script looked more deeply at the trauma that dementia creates in a family.

July 06, 2017

It’s true that no one walks out of a theater humming the scenery. But on leaving the Muny’s A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, there were a couple of people merrily singing “Everybody Ought to Have a Maid.” It’s that kind of a show, and it was that kind of a night, especially since we had all dodged the rain that dotted the area before the show.

It’s a delightful production of a very funny work with impeccable bloodlines. How funny? Larry Gelbart, along with Burt Shevelove wrote the book. Larry Gelbart? Wasn’t he the guy that created and produced MASH? Well, yes, and there are lines in here that do seem to presage wisecracks from Hawkeye and Klinger. Then there’s the music. This was the first show that Stephen Sondheim wrote both the music and lyrics for. (It was lyrics-only for shows like West Side Story and Gypsy.) The bloodlines go all the way back to the Roman Empire – I’m serious here – when a playwright named Plautus wrote bawdy farces about a slave named Pseudolus.

All this is perhaps very interesting, but, more importantly, the result is definitely worthwhile, made more vivid by what occurred with the actors playing Pseudolus in the Muny show. Peter Scolari was a victim of a sinus infection multiplied by the notorious allergen count hereabouts. On Saturday before the Wednesday opening said he just couldn’t do it. The Muny called Jeffrey Schecter, who’d played Scuttle, the bird in the previous show, The Little Mermaid. He arrived on Sunday morning, ready to rehearse. And rehearse and rehearse and rehearse. Even working with script in hand, he manages really well – some of the more complex choreography is sorta loose, but Schecter does himself and the Muny proud. It’s easy to forget he’s using the paper and I'm sure it’ll be gone soon.

Pseudolus is indeed a slave, owned by Hero (Marrick Smith), the young son of a fine Roman family. Pseudolus wants his freedom, and he’s quite the schemer. On one side of the family’s handsome villa is another, belonging to Marcus Lycus (Jason Kravits), who uses it for the courtesans he procures. One particular lovely, Philia (Ali Ewoldt) has caught the eye of young Hero, he of the shapely calf, who pines for her. The house on the other side is that of Erronius (Whit Reichert), absent on a long, long quest seeking his children who were abducted by pirates.

Marcus Lycus has contracted Philia to a big-deal captain in the Roman army, Miles Gloriosus (Nathaniel Hackmann), so Hero is out of luck. But not if Pseudolus can get his way; Hero has agreed to free him if he wins the hand of the fair Philia. (A great deal is made of the fact that Philia is a virgin, so she’d be an alright bride for the aristocracy – we assume.)

(Photo, L-R, Jason Kravits, Jeffrey Schecter, Marrick Smith)

There’s more, of course. This is a door-slamming farce, mildly bawdy baggy-pants comedy done in togas. Schecter’s Pseudolus is faintly reminiscent of Nathan Lane, who, in fact, is one of a long line of fine comedic actors and comedians who’ve done the role. (Tom Poston, anyone?) He’s both thwarted and abetted by John Tartaglia’s Hysterium, the household’s majordomo, who twitches and flutters his way through the evening, including appearing dressed as a (large) version of Philia. Hero’s parents Senex (Mark Linn-Baker) and Domina (E. Faye Butler) do battle between themselves; Linn-Baker is funny but Butler rules, in more ways than in the script. There’s just no messing with her at all.

Philia has a large number of funny lines showing she’s not much more than a pretty face, all delivered very earnestly by Ewoldt, but it doesn’t dawn on Smith’s Hero at all. Their duet, “Lovely,” is a great song, but the voices are unbalanced – it’s hard to hear Ewoldt and not harken back to the days of Romberg operettas on this stage. Her would-be husband, Hackmann, is pretty much wooden, which is what the role demands. Everyone’s a caricature, and Hackmann’s physical comedy begins the first time we see his foot, in a huge, exaggerated stride, come on stage. Kravits and Reichert, the guys in the neighborhood are equally funny.

Tim Mackabee’s lovely villa facades give us a simple set that remains for the whole show but it’s perfect. Mara Blumenfeld’s brilliantly colored costumes make the relatively small cast stand out. Director Gary Griffin, who knows this stage very well, orchestrates things so carefully it seems like he’s just let the cast go play.

Please listen to the delightful lyrics of “Comedy Tonight”. For anyone who loves, or even just likes theater, they’re a treat.

June 22, 2017

When it comes to musical theatre, selling the sizzle is just as important as selling the steak. Or, in this case, perhaps the salmon. The Muny is giving us Disney’s The Little Mermaid, and that’s the sort of fishy joke that abounds in the production.

What has the Muny done with this Alan Menken-Howard Ashman/Glenn Slater show? If you’ll forgive another maritime joke, it’s very splashy, indeed. The costumes, in particular, are stunning, and the innovation all around is a delight. The mermaid who’s curious about life on land is just an excuse to show off how much fun theatre can be, and there’s nothing wrong at all with that.

It’s not just Ariel’s mer-costume that gets adjusted to being landlocked. That’s the least of the delights from Highland, Il, native Robin L. McGee. Starting off with swaying seaweed on part of the chorus, she and crew proceed to give us all kinds of spectacular piscine looks.

Ariel is Emma Degerstedt, the youngest of the seven daughters, referred to as the mersisters, of King Triton, Jerry Dixon. Kind soul that she is, she rescues a shipwrecked sailor, Jason Gotay, and takes him to shore. Amazingly, he turns out to be a price in need of a wife. Hijinks ensue, of course. Degerstedt and Gotay seem to be having a truly great time, but Degerstedt has the bulk of the work, simply because she has to act without words for much of the second act, incredibly difficult in this immense venue. It works.

One of the high points of those hijinks, and the whole approach the Muny has taken to this show, is how Ursula (played by Emily Skinner in her return to the Muny) the banished sister of Triton, is presented. Ursula appears, almost floating, atop an octopus that’s four dancers wearing tentacles. It’s almost enough to detract from her great voice. Her sidekicks – villains always have sidekicks – are a couple of eels whose heads are puppets.

More puppetry, a la Lion King, in several situations, and it’s fun rather than feeling copied. And a final tip of the snorkel to Josh Walden, the choreographer, whose great work is an important factor in the evening.

As is often the case in family entertainment, the secondary characters are great fun. Gotay’s character Prince Eric is watched over by his guardian Grimsby, Richard B. Watson, who’s a delight, and Ariel’s pal Flounder they’ve cast as the young Spencer Jones, who’s already done a lot of work at the Muny. He’s pretty much perfect in the role, with deadpan humor. Sebastian, the crab charged by Triton with keeping an eye on Ariel, is the work of James T. Lane, very funny in his frantic if unsuccessful efforts. Scuttle, the seagull, manifests as a puppet and then as Jeffrey Schecter, and is a fine introduction to malapropisms for the young.

There’s a great deal of fairly clever dialogue in the show, in fact, courtesy of Doug Wright’s book. That helps keep the show fun for adults. There were plenty of apprentice mermaids, many showing Team Ariel colors, in the audience, but adults deserve entertainment, too. They, after all, are underwriting these visits.

Marcia Milgrom Dodge has given us a delightful evening under her direction. One wishes the score were better, but everything else worked so well, it’s difficult to complain about that.

June 19, 2017

The musical version of The Sweet Smell of Success opened big on Broadway. The story of the powerful New York gossip columnist syndicated all over the country had music from Marvin Hamlisch and a book by John Guare. It starred John Lithgow as the columnist JJ Hunsecker, with Lithgow winning a Tony for his work. Scott Miller, the founder of New Line Theatre, saw it, loved it – and realized it didn’t belong in a big Broadway house.

He was right. Much of it takes place in smoky nightclubs of the 1950’s and in the equally smoky offices of press agents. Intimacy is good for the music, it’s good for the actors and it’s good for its effect. The only thing New Line’s current production lacks in reproducing that intimacy is actual cigarette smoke.

Hunsecker (Zachary Alan Farmer), who’s based on Walter Winchell, the mega-columnist who was good buddies with J. Edgar Hoover during the McCarthy Red-baiting years, runs into a young, hustling, but unsuccessful press agent named Sidney Falco (Matt Pentecost). Falco is repping a club where Dallas Cochran (Sean Michael) plays the piano. Cochran is in love with a young woman named Susan Hunsecker (Ann Hier). J.J. comes in searching for her and is extremely upset that she’s hanging out there with such guys. Is she J.J.’s wife? No, she’s his kid sister. Falco steps up to (mis)identify himself as a classmate of Susan’s in an attempt to impress her, and things proceed from there.

Hunsecker, powerful in a way that’s hard to understand these days (but Winchell was, with both politicians and show biz folks) is very protective of his sister. The insinuation is that he’s maybe too protective, in fact. She’s bananas for the piano player but terrified of her brother who wants her to date somebody like that young Senator Kennedy he sets her up with. Falco becomes Hunsecker’s protege and figurative bag man, and he’s thrilled that he’s in the big time. But Hunsecker’s moral compass is totally absent except slightly, when it comes to Susan. Betrayal on betrayal follows. This is a little different than the movie, appreciated now more than when it came out, which had a script by Clifford Odets – and in which the piano player was Martin Milner, who went on to “Route 66” fame. But the impact is the same.

Farmer does superb work as Hunsecker. He charms and glares and shouts and sings with a singular purpose, to get his own way, utterly convincing. Ann Hier plays Susan as very young and innocent, just right in this time frame, and sounds great. Her chemistry with Sean Michael as Dallas is palpable. As Sidney, Matt Pentecost works hard, but retains an air of innocence far too long into the story, and has to work a little with some of the songs.

The visual theme is the blue lights of nightclubs, and both scenic and lighting designer Rob Lippert and costume designer Sarah Porter (who plays Sidney’s hat-check girlfriend with elan) go for it. The costumes in particular hit it – take a look at the shoes, for example. Sidney even has a pair of blue suedes. Jeffrey Richard Carter and the New Line band take good care of the score and the sound from Elli Castonguary is nearly perfectly balanced. Taylor Pietz’ choreography – and this is a dance-heavy version of the show – is fun, especially with the chorus, which has some folks who would have been right at home in “Guys and Dolls”. They’re a delight.

Much credit to Miller and co-director Mike Dowdy-Windsor for this show, which manages to be a romp despite its very serious story.

June 18, 2017

St. Louis has far more theatre than many people realize, and we – happily – have the audiences to support it, for the most part. (Financial support, I realize, is a whole different question.) Regular theatre-goers can get to the point of counting how many times they’ve seen a certain play, whether it’s their favorite or just something that pops up every year from a different company. Here’s a chance for something unseen.

Stray Dog Theatre brings us a brand new comedy thriller from local playwright Stephen Peirick. Monsters is the story of a St. Louis couple, Sarajane Alverson and Jeremy Goldmeier, playing Andi and Davis. She’s a cosmetologist and he just started to run his family diner after his father’s death. That’s not going so well; dear old Dad left a mountain of unpaid bills. But why are we in their unfinished basement? Therein lies the story.

Kevin O’Brien, as Jeremy, Davis’ kid brother, bursts in pushing a guy, played by Michael A. Wells, tied to an office chair, gagged and with a bloody knot on his head. Andi comes downstairs, totally unprepared for what she sees. Jeremy is equally shocked that she’s home, and uncharacteristically ill-kempt, not that Jeremy would know that word. O’Brien’s Jeremy is rather a doofus, wonderfully played with squirming body language and a wide knowledge of perfectly obvious movie references. Andi, nobody’s fool, can browbeat him into an explanation, or at least a subtotal one, of what she’s seeing, but it doesn’t come easily.

The characters are very realistic – Alverson’s Andi could have been any of several co-workers of mine years ago, for instance, and Goldmeier, as Davis, seems very comfortable as a struggling business owner and concerned husband. Eileen Engel is Piper, Andi’s sexy sister who arrives complaining about her probation officer. Just for practice, she works her wiles on Jeremy. The poor guy in the chair – what is his name, anyway? - doesn’t have much to say but contributes a lot in physical comedy.

Lots of laughs here, with some killer lines. (That, however, may be a bad choice of words on my part.) I’m not sure that these folks would actually speak in such grammatical sentences, but that’s a fairly minor quibble. Good work from actors and Peirick, and kudos to Gary F. Bell, director, and Stray Dog’s artistic director, for putting it all together.

June 17, 2017

As I write this, it’s Bloomsday, the tribute to James Joyce and his novel Ulysses. In that lineage, but closer to the style of his younger friend Samuel Beckett is the work of contemporary playwright Will Eno. Eno’s work Title and Deed is on the boards currently, brought to us by The Midnight Company.

Eno’s work seems close to stream-of-consciousness, and here, as in several of his works, it’s a one-person show. Joe Hanrahan, the company’s artistic director and co-founder, has done other Eno work like his THOM PAIN(based on nothing). He has a sure hand with the playwright’s work and it’s certainly shown off with this.

The unnamed person in the show is an immigrant – maybe Irish, to judge from the accent – who’s been Here, the unnamed Here, a while. He tells tales of arrival, of what has happened to him since he got here, and of his life before, where he grew up and his parents. But it’s not a straight line narrative, rather bouncing back and forth, sometime stuttering to a halt. Hanrahan totally inhabits the character, who manages to be puzzling, charming at time, but mostly very interesting. He does an excellent job.

The Midnight Company is once again using Avatar Studios, which is in an office park just off South Ewing west of Jefferson. There really is no set, just lighting and sound, all this from Bess Moynihan’s design. But being in a commercial studio is an interesting experience in itself, and the sparseness accentuates the acting and dialogue. Sarah Whitney directed.

Title and Deed is not among Eno’s best works. Hanrahan gives it all he’s got, though, and that’s enough.

June 14, 2017

Hooray. Titus, also known as La Clemenza di Tito, is show about a ruler who is wise, kind and concerned about the people for whom he is responsible. How refreshing is that?

Oh, sure, conflict is at the heart of all theatre. And Opera Theatre of St. Louis’ fourth and final production of the year has plenty of it. It’s just that Emperor Titus is the good guy instead of some hotheaded revenge-seeking bully who is entitled to what he wants. Mozart created this opera to mark the coronation of Leopold II of Bohemia, although Leopold (who was the brother of Marie Antoinette, she of guillotine fame) did not quite live up to the standard Mozart set, using an old libretto from Pietro Metastasio. Antonio Salieri, whom you may remember from the film Amadeus, had earlier turned the gig down.

Forget Leopold. It’s Titus you want. He’s looking for an empress, you see, and things aren’t working out so well. Titus is sung by Rene Barbera, and he’s extremely satisfying in both voice and characterization of the emperor agonizing over a particularly painful betrayal. The female lead is Laura Wilde, who wants Titus in the worst way – literally, I assure you. She’s a delight, plotting and scheming and lusting after the crown if not the guy who holds it. Both of the women singing the trouser roles, that operatic quirk that has some males’ roles actually sung by women, Cecelia Hall, playing Sesto, Titus’ long-time best friend, and Emily D’Angelo as Annio, who’s in love with Sesto’s sister, are excellent, rocking their breeches with elan and great vocal work.

Titus is the swan song of Stephen Lord, OTSL’s distinguished music director, whose appearance in the pit on opening night was met with a standing ovation. He pulls together musicians both onstage and in the pit in a beautifully synchronized way. A remarkable set from Leslie Travers features the eagle of Imperial Rome, the rest of the set deceptively simple, but it’s the eagle that pulls things together. Travers is also responsible for the deliciously imperial costumes. And the score? It’s Mozart and it’s just marvelous.

It seems like the supertitles are less abundant than they once were, but I’m assured that this isn’t the case and I’m just a fuddy-duddy. Judge for yourself.

June 10, 2017

The Trial gives us an interesting combination. Franz Kafka, a writer whose work was so singular that his name has been turned into an adjective meaning deeply bizarre, and Phillip Glass, the contemporary composer, whose name, for many people, brings to mind discordant “modern” music, are the two factors. The result is happily far from off-putting, even for the opera-hesitant.

It seems a reach to call this a comic opera, as the program styles it, but there is indeed some levity in it – we are told that when Kafka read this to his friends, they all laughed heartily. Stage director Michael McCarthy gives us elements of commedia dell’ arte, which fits perfectly into the unworldliness of what happens. Josef K. (Theo Hoffman) is awakened with the news that he’s being arrested. For what is a mystery that is never revealed. It’s like a nightmare’s unsolvable puzzle.

The staging of the play keeps that theme. Simon Banham’s set seems simple, a wall with one high window, several mostly-invisible doors, all appearing to be whitewashed wood. The remarkable lighting from Christopher Akerlind uses that wall to great effect, often with sharply outlined silhouettes, not just of the actors but also pieces of the set – at one point a silhouette of the metal frames of chairs and a table piled on a bed resemble a Charles Rennie Mackintosh design. Banham also did the black and white or cream costumes, and the commedia dell’ arte angle is emphasized by makeup from Tom Watson hinting at that style.

The blending of the story and the music is remarkably good, a product of the show being created with particularly close work between Glass and librettist Christopher Hampton. Indeed, one can become so swept away with the performance and the story line that the music’s seamless fit becomes another critical organ in the body of work, like the libretto, rather than the primary focus. That’s not to disparage Glass, but rather talk about how well the partnering worked. And for those who are hesitant about modern music, this isn’t difficult to listen to, I hasten to add.

Theo Hoffman’s Josef is well-acted and handsomely sung. The remaining cast each cover multiple roles. Those are more broadly played, again acknowledging the dell’ arte tradition, and that’s a great deal of the humor, although there are some verbal jests as well. The voices are satisfying. The St. Louis Symphony is conducted by Carolyn Kuan, making her OTSL debut, and she seems right at home with things, the result being a great pleasure.

June 05, 2017

The Winter's Tale has it all, drama, tragedy, comedy. This year's presentation of Shakespeare Festival ST. Louis puts this lesser-known work out for all to see - and enjoy.

As with much of his work, there's a certain amount of suspended disbelief necessary, but give it that, and you're good to go.

Leontes, King of Sicilia, has it all - a beautiful wife pregnant with their second child, a cutie-pie son, a best friend from childhood who grew up to be the king of Bohemia. Friend, Polixines, is visiting the couple and planning his departure, but Leontes demurs. Stay a while longer, he says, but Polixines resists his entreaties. Leontes turns to his queen Hermione and says that perhaps Polixines will listen if she asks him. She's successful, but Leontes her charming him and laughing with him and suddenly is struck by a massive paranoid delusion: They're having an affair.

There is no reasoning with him. He begins to question his son's parentage, but is reassured by the boy's resemblance to him. Nevertheless, despite the attempts by his counselors to calm him, he's absolutely convince, and orders his chief lord, Camillo, to kill his friend. While Camillo prepares to do that, Leontes summons the queen, accuses her and throws her in jail to await trial, this in front of their little boy, who is dragged off, screaming.

Queen Hermione, don't forget is pregnant. When she delivers a daughter, the king, believing it to be Polixenes', orders the baby to be abandoned in some desolate place. This being Shakespeare, we know the wolves won't get her. Indeed, she's found by a shepherd. Hermione is sentenced to death for her treason.

The desolate place for the baby just happens to be in Bohemia, the home of King Polixenes, her father's now-former friend, but not her father, if you follow me. There's more, of course, wherein things reach resolution.

This exciting production pleases on many levels. It isn't perfect, but it comes extremely close. Charles Pasternak's Leontes is thrilling. His paranoia is so well drawn I was thinking, "Hmmm...schizophrenia?", his grief carefully depicted as the other side of the coin. His queen, Cherie Corinne Rice, is a charmer, warm and totally shocked by the turn of events. Chauncy Thomas' return to St. Louis as POlixines of Bohemia pulls heavy duty in the second act as things get thornier and wears the added age, when everyone is 16 years older, with a careful, honest performance.

The Sicilian chief lord and would-be murderer, Anderson Matthews, charms with his conscience struggling in the service off Leontes and then Polixines. His counterpart in speaking out, Paulina, one of Queen Hermione's ladies, is Rachel Christopher, who delivers speeches ripping Leontes up one side and down the other in heroic fashion. She's splendid. Her husband Antigonus, MIchael James Reed, tasked with delivering the newborn girl unto her fate, is the subject of the world's most famous stage direction, "Exit, pursued by a bear." (Watch for how the production handles the bear.) And it's impossible not to warm to Whit Reichert's shepherd. Even beyond these, it's a fine cast.

The lovely set, majestic and versatile, is the work of Scott Neale. John Wylie's lights give added impact, as does Rusty Wandall's flawless sound.

There are a few inexplicable quirks. When the action switches from Sicilia to Bohemia, accents ranging from Southern to Scottish to Irish appear. The costumes of the country folks there look, to my eye, more like Sicily than eastern Europe. On the other hand, the contemporary that opens both acts is just part of the scene and the freeform onstage dancing a real lark. It's a shame we don't have the bear dancing to "Uptown Funk".

Director Bruce Longworth has done Shakespeare Festival St. Louis proud with this one. Just because The Winter's Tale isn't a well-known play is no reason to skip it. In fact, its freshness is part of its considerable charm.

May 30, 2017

If you are – relatively – new to opera, you, in particular, need to see The Grapes of Wrath. It will change and inform your perspective for a long time, possibly even permanently.

This is a revised, shortened version of the opera that debuted in 2007. Composer Ricky Ian Gordon and librettist Michael Korie also changed it to a two-act form. Still, this premiere performance manages to express the deep feelings of the Pulitzer Prize-winning novel by John Steinbeck without leaving anyone feeling short-changed. Shaken, yes, but so does the novel and the impressive film taken from it.

It takes place during the Great Depression, a time when agricultural processes and meteorological occurrences coincided to produce the Dust Bowl, making the terrible economic situation even worse. The Joad family is losing their farm because nothing can be grown, and they decide to head out US 66 to California to look for work in the fields there. It’s a grim business, and nothing is sugar-coated in the retelling.

And yet...and yet. The music is wondrous, floating along, wonderful melodies and great voices. The libretto – oh, lordy, the words, as Ma Joad might say. It’s real people language, both in terms of grammar and pronunciation. Korie’s respect for Steinbeck’s characters is immense.

As in real life, not every moment is grim. There’s a rowdy duet early in the first act when Tom Joad, en route home from prison to see his family, meets up with Casy, a preacher who has lost his faith and is enjoying it with great cheer. But my favorite has to be an aria – it’s hard to call this an aria, but technically that’s what it is – that takes place in a diner when the waitress/owner’s wife sings about her love for truck drivers, pace Kitty Wells of “My Big Truck Drivin’ Man” fame.

Katharine Goeldner’s Ma Joad is indomitable, with a voice to match, a fine performance from all angles. Tom Joad, the lead and one of her quartet of sons, is Tobias Greenhalgh. If you remember the movie clip of Henry Fonda’s “I’ll be there” speech – Greenhalgh’s rendition of Gordon’s aria of that is just as stirring. The older Joad daughter, Rosasharn, Deanna Breiwick, young and hopeful and in love, shines. Geoffrey Agpalo, has a romp with the rowdy Casy, and is in fine voice. And a wave of the fancy crocheted-edge handkerchief to the waitress, played by Jennifer Panara.

Speaking of handkerchiefs, James Schuette’s costumes are drab and near-colorless, a logical interpretation of the situation, not beautiful but just right. The set, from Allen Moyer, works beautifully, from the great opening scene in a soup kitchen onward, including turning a piano into a tractor. (Also in the visual realm, the program has a fine Thomas Hart Benton painting of the Joads well worth inspection,.)

Conductor Christopher Allen and stage director James Robinson have pulled the elements together to give us a show that stuns and pleases. Perhaps more importantly, The Grapes of Wrath reminds us of what terrible times this country has gone through and survived. Perseverance is still important.

May 28, 2017

Crossin’ Over closes the Black Rep’s fortieth anniversary season. Created by the company’s founder and producing director Ron Himes and Charles Creath, it first appeared in the autumn of 2005. Described as “a musical with a measure of silent rebellion”, it’s a series of musical suites.

Himes directed and Creath is the musical director as well as playing keyboards for the show. They were part of the original company, and so were several of the actors seen in this edition, J. Samuel Davis, Kelvin Roston, Jr., and Leah Stewart.

The show begins with African percussion and continues from there marking the roots of the African-American experience. The Captivity Suite addresses the Middle Passage wherein people are captured and carried away on slave ships to the New World and the auction block experience and working in the fields. In this latter section, in particular, there are many songs that are familiar from childhood on for some of us. The arrangements are new, though, twining together, streaming along, keeping things more interesting than concert arrangements would be.

After the intermission, there’s a tribute to Thomas Dorsey, the prolific composer of much gospel music and some secular hits as well, followed by the Civil Rights Suite and the Contemporary Suite. There are some splendid sounds in all this, certainly, great harmonies and exciting rhythms. I was surprised, though, that in the relatively small auditorium that the Emerson Performance center at Harris-Stowe State University is, that the performers were miked. There were a few glitches with the sound, but that’s a fixable problem – I just would have been even more excited to hear these voices au naturel.

Watching J. Samuel Davis work is always such a pleasure that it’s nice to be reminded how rich his voice is. Amber Alexandria Rose tears things up with “He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands”. Venezia Manuel’s dance is joyous to watch, smooth and flowing and creative.

May 22, 2017

Madame Butterfly has returned to Opera Theatre of St. Louis. Is it a warhorse or a classic? It’s the sixth most-performed opera in the world, according to the website Operabase, which keeps track of these things. It’s also been lambasted as racist and sexist, and even now, there are serious efforts to re-think it, as shown in this New York Times article.It can’t be a warhorse to you if you haven’t seen it at least a couple of times, or didn’t grow up in a house where the music played frequently on whatever electronic, electric or manual device was around.

So what have we in this production? It’s early in the 20th century and the place is Nagasaki, Japan. A young American naval lieutenant named Pinkerton (Michael Brandenburg) is, in effect, renting himself a house and a bride, both on short-term leases, quite legal at the time in Japan. The bride is Butterfly, also called Cio-cio San (Rena Harms), a geisha who is, we’re told, 15. Pinkerton arrives at the house for the wedding accompanied by the American consul (Christopher Magiera), who tells him he overheard Butterfly at the consulate the day before, and warns him that she sounds like she’s head over heels for the young man, something that’s more than the usual business deal. She arrives with an entourage and her family for the wedding and reveals that she’s even converted to Christianity for Pinkerton. Furor ensues and Pinkerton sends everyone else home so he can have a wedding night.

That’s the first act, and while much of the music is marvelous, it’s hard to figure out from her behavior if Rapier’s Butterfly is serious about all this or if she’s playing Pinkerton to, in effect, get an American husband. There’s a great deal of eye rolling when she’s not facing him and exaggerated expression when she is, as though she’s just going through the motions. The general lack of chemistry between the two of them is a problem, and even their voices don’t seem to mesh well.

Come the second act, it’s three years later, and while Pinkerton’s been gone a long time, he left money behind to pay the rent on the house for her – which says maybe he isn’t really the unfeeling cad that some might call him. Their servant, Suzuki (Renee Rapier) has stayed with her, and there’s a new member in the household. Yes, there’s a little blond-haired boy named Sorrow (Sam Holder, who is quite impressive). No sign of his father, but Butterfly remains optimistic. Then Pinkerton appears, with his (legal American) wife. Tears ensue, but Rapier seems much easier with this act than the previous one.

As is common with OTSL, the secondary roles are filled with some excellent voices, and first among them is Magiera as the consul, who also displays good acting chops. Rapier’s Suzuki shows strongly as the stalwart maid, and the rejected suitor Prince Yamadori (Benjamin Taylor) is more than satisfying. Even the rather sleazy matchmaker/rental agent/pimp Goro does well in John McVeigh’s hands.

This translation of the show was done by Maggie Stearns and the late Colin Graham, both longtime pillars of OTSL with national reputations in their fields, and the traditional three acts are manged in two. Robin Guarino directed.

If this is your first experience at an opera, bear in mind what someone once explained to my husband when he interviewed her. “Just think of it as magic realism.” Works for me.

May 21, 2017

What a romp they’re doing at Slightly AskewTheatre Ensemble. First Impressions is a take on Jane Austen’s classic Pride and Prejudice. It’s close to madcap, switching back and forth from scenes from the book to actors breaking the fourth wall to speak directly to the audience about their own (and others’) experiences with the book. Sound stuffy? Fugeddaboutit.

It’s the story of the Bennets, father, mother and five daughters, who live in Hertfordshire in the early 1800’s. Marrying the girls off is the constant drive for Mrs. Bennet. It’s less of a concern to her eldest three than to the younger ones, who are, as my own mother would have said, “boy crazy”.

It is, of course, a truth universally acknowledged that Colin Firth, who played the handsome Mr. Darcy in one of the several film versions, has brought new generations into the Austen realm to appreciate her. Those who haven’t read it usually aren’t aware of just how funny it is in an arched-eyebrow sort of way with exaggeration and irony, but First Impressions takes full advantage.

All the Bennet daughters, Jane (Cara Barresi), Elizabeth (Ellie Schwetye), Mary (Parvuna Sulaiman), Kitty (Jazmine K. Wade) and Lydia (Katy Keating) are delights. Schwetye’s Elizabeth is as smart and willful as she needs to be, and, yes, proud – as well as having a brief round of prejudice. As Lydia, Keating flounces rather than simpers, an interesting choice for her eagerness to have a suitor. Their mother (Nicole Angeli) would be a flibbertigibbet if she were less focused, but is truly no airhead, just showing the distraction of so many daughters on her list of Things To Do. Angeli also plays the fearsome gargoyle Lady Catherine De Bourgh.

But this is not just a show with women as the focus. The long-suffering Mr. Bennet is Carl Overly, Jr., warm and patient and showing just the right flash of temperament when pushed. Mr. Darcy (John Wolbers) has undeniable chemistry with Elizabeth, or Lizzie, as she’s frequently referred to, and it’s great fun to watch the two together. Andrew Kuhlman’s Reverend Collins is simultaneously and wonderfully both pompous and oleaginous.

A very minimalist-looking set that still manages to evoke the Regency period from Bess Moynihan, and fascinating riffs on the costumes from the period, crossed with modern things like vivid nail polish and serious eye liner, courtesy of Elizabeth Henning. Rachel Tibbetts directed the piece, which was conceived by her and Schwetye. They have a great deal to be happy with here. First Impressions is enjoyable enough to overcome even the wretched sound that’s inevitable at The Chapel. No one has mastered those problems completely, but you get enough of this that it’s worth the effort, certainly

May 20, 2017

A friend of mine (you know who you are) once went to a theatrical performance in Israel. It was an Irish play about the Troubles, those violent difficulties between Catholics and Protestants that have only in recent years halted. One hopes they’ve stopped rather than paused, certainly. At intermission in this country where buses get bombed and farmers on tractors routinely carry long guns, he heard one theatre-goer say to another, “My goodness, I’m glad I don’t live there!”, referring to Northern Ireland.

Thinking people all struggle with political difficulties, even if it’s just dialogue in one’s own head. Those difficulties are all around us these days. A Human Being Died That Night, now at Upstream Theater, is about the aftermath of South Africa’s abolition of apartheid. Their Truth and Reconciliation Commission attempted to bridge some of the immense gap by officially hearing individual stories of the consequences of the racial laws. Pumla Gobodo-Madikizela was a member of the commission, a clinical psychologist whose primary area of study was forgiveness. She wrote a book about her interviews with the commander of the state-sanctioned death squads, Eugene de Kock, after he was convicted. The play is based on those interviews.

Dr. Gobodo-Madikizela is Jacqueline Thompson. The role demands subtlety and self-control and Thompson is in firm command of the whole thing. It’s not a showy portrayal, and it shouldn’t be. Her work is writ fine and in an exquisite style. Gene de Kock, shackled to a stool in the visitors’ room and wearing an immense orange jumpsuit, is played by Christopher Harris. De Kock was labeled in newspapers at the time “Prime Evil”, and participated in many of the murderous episodes related. Does he regret what he did, or is this a game because he’s in solitary? Does he have some type of personality disorder? How do people get to this point? Early in the first encounter between the two, De Kock says to the psychologist, “Does all this remind you of Jody Foster and Sir Anthony Hopkins?” A logical question, perhaps, and yet it doesn’t, really, remind one. Harris’ character has a wider range in which to work than Thompson’s. He handles it remarkably well, extremely believable in a performance that will be remembered a long time.

Patrick Huber gives us a set that’s more than the visitors’ room, thanks to Michael Dorsey’s media work that evokes both the old and the new South Africa. There is no accent coach credited, but the South African accents are quite workable. I would encourage reading the program to get some details that will add to one’s knowledge of what’s about to happen, but it’s not essential. Some of the words are Britishisms - “biro”, for instance, meaning a ballpoint pen – if that’s a concern. One act, 100 minutes.

Director Patrick Siler has given us a small, carefully wrought gold nugget of a show, very much worth seeing. And worth thinking about here in St. Louis.

May 19, 2017

4000 Miles opened last week at The New Jewish Theatre. It’s the story of an old New York radical whose 22-year-old grandson comes to crash at her apartment for a while. This all sounds warm and cozy, of course. But while it doesn’t fall into the realm of pathology, it’s very realistic in that things are never quite as tidy as they appear, especially when it comes to families.

Leo (Chris Tipp) has just bicycled cross-country from Seattle when he arrives in the middle of the night. Grandma Vera (Amy Loui) wasn’t expecting him – she knew he was coming to town but thought he’d be staying with his girlfriend. Actually, Vera is his step-grandmother; their grandfather was her second husband Joe, dead these ten years now. But she’s been around so long, they’re functionally hers. So she says what she thinks, and she’s not much for the warm and fuzzy. Especially when she’s awakened at 3 a.m. and doesn’t have her teeth in her mouth. And who among us can blame her for that?

The kid is still soft and un-formed, at loose ends, and his determination to “finish something”, meaning the bike ride, is uncharacteristic. But seeing his friend killed in an accident somewhere in Kansas might have begun a change.

Loui’s Vera is still pretty formidable despite having to reach for words frequently and fighting a hearing aid. It’s nice seeing an elderly character with some spine – osteoporosis or not – and Vera’s got it. Chris Tipp softens many of Leo’s rough edges. His youthful enthusiasms aren’t demands of Vera but suggestions in an effort to be helpful, or at least polite, although at times we can see anger bursting through.

Rachel Fenton is Bec, the girlfriend, or girlfriend-as-was. His presenting her with a wee squash is sort of emblematic of things between them as Bec’s fading interest continues to wane. Leo also picks up Amanda (Grace Langford), whom he manages to address as Amelia as soon as he gets her into the apartment. Things go downhill from there, and Langford’s timing in the scene works very well.

The apartment, from scenic designer Marissa Todd, is spot-on for the situation, the sort of rent-controlled place that newcomers dream of and mentally remove the crocheted afghans and wall art. Michele Friedman Siler dresses Vera, in particular, in a way that reflects her age and social style as well.

Good ensemble work, and director Ed Coffield’s touch with letting Leo be less prickly than he might have been works particularly well.

May 08, 2017

Small Craft Warnings does not tell a tale with a tidy story arc. Tennessee Williams’ 1972 play was expanded from an earlier, shorter work of his called Confessional. That title may be more relevant than the newer one.

In a real dive bar, not the kind populated with hipsters, somewhere along the Southern California coast, we find Monk (Peter Mayer), the owner who lives upstairs, preparing to open for another day of business. Dunsi Dai’s set looks so right, we can almost hear shoes sticking to the floor. Long-time customer Doc (Jeremy Lawrence) is the first to arrive. Doc is clearly down at the heel, rather shabby in his dress and shambling in his gait. He’s there on business, and it’s not to assess Monk’s rather alarming-sounding cough. He’s there for a drink or ten, sometimes using it to wash down a benzedrine tablet. Williams himself played Doc at one point of the play’s first run, and benzedrine was one of his personal drugs of choice.

Soon there appears Bill (Eric Dean White), another frequent flier at the saloon, nattily attired in a tropical shirt and sienna-colored trousers so tight one waits for the sound of ripping seams. He’s the unemployed man toy of Leona (Elizabeth Townsend), a beautician who lives with him in her trailer so small the two of them use bunk beds. She, too, has a fair thirst, and when she arrives to find Bill being manhandled, so to speak, by the waif-ish Violet (Magan Wiles) she’d befriended, battle ensues.

This is late Williams, and at a number of points, action pauses, Michael Sullivan’s lights change slightly and focus on a character who talks about what they’re thinking, trying to explain things to themselves and to us. There’s a deep sadness and cynicism in all this, and yet an openness – two gay men, newcomers who walk into the bar, talk more openly about their sexuality than in any Williams play I can recall.

Director Richard Corley has evoked some particularly fine performances. Chief among these is Townsend as Leona, who gives nuance to the blowsiness and a constant edge to everything she does. White’s Bill would, if he had a job, be a first-rate lounge lizard, slick and ego-laden and sure of himself, despite evidence to the contrary. Lawrence shows us a Doc whose brain hasn’t entirely been pickled but whose sense of ethics certainly has – and yet, somehow, remains slightly sympathetic. And then there’s the Viola created by Magan Wiles, such a creature as we haven’t seen for a while. Is she mentally ill? Developmentally delayed? PTSD’d? She clings to men with the fluidity of a sheet with static electricity, hanging on them even as she goes limp.

These may not be people we care about – but Williams manages to make us curious about them, which is about as far as most of us can go. The run on this goes through next weekend, another of the extended performances that are such a good idea.

Another note here – the last performance of Bertha in Paradise was Sunday afternoon, so I can’t send you there. But this cabaret performance, by Anita Jackson, playing Bertha, the prostitute who seemed to be dying in last year’s St. Louis Rooming House Plays, was pretty stunning. Jackson was belting numbers like “I Want a Little Sugar in my Bowl”, the old Bessie Smith tune more recently sung by Nina Simone and Queen Latifah, and morphing seamlessly into wonderful Cole Porter like “I’ve Got You Under My Skin”. Charles Creath was at the piano, Donna Weinsting was Goldie, the madam, who sang a little as well, and then there was Joel, the stage hand, who did a lot more than adjust the microphone. Definitely adult material, but in a town that loves cabaret, that doesn’t matter. If something like this comes up next year, put it on your schedule, please.

May 06, 2017

For those in search of something they certainly have not seen before, Will Mr. Merriwether Return from Memphis?runs this weekend as part of the Tennessee Williams Festival St. Louis. It’s at the Stockton House, the venue for last year’s very successful The St. Louis Rooming House Plays. Mr. Merriwether hasn’t been done anywhere in the last fifty years, so the odds are good it’s new to all of us.

Like so much of Williams, it’s about yearning and that thin line between reality and beyond. Julie Layton is Louise, in whose house we are. She’s a young widow with an adolescent daughter, Gloria, played by Molly McCaskill. Not only is Louise dealing with an adolescent in hormonal storm, she’s storming some on her own, over her former boarder, a traveling salesman named Merriwether who accepted a job in Memphis. Louise is tense, chronically mildly agitated, and, we eventually realize, barely functioning.

Their neighbor Nora is Kelley Weber, an older widow. She and Louise have gotten in the habit of summoning apparitions of an evening, as they would doubtless term it, and Kelly fusses over Louise as much as allowed, which is very little. Gloria sashays off nightly to the public library to work on her English theme and be followed by a pack of admirers.

This all doesn’t sound like much, but details like one of the apparitions turning out to be Rimbaud, the poet – not that the ladies recognize his name – and Gloria’s scenes in both the library and the schoolroom, where one of her admirers, a young man with a stutter, Jacob Flekier, helps her out, perk things up.And some of the dialogue is wickedly funny.

The three actresses are all remarkably good, and the evening is deeply strengthened by the supporting players. Terry Meddows, Sophia Brown and Bob Harvey do yeoman work, although in this case, it should be yeoperson work, as there is a great deal of cross-gender activity going on. Harvey’s librarian could pass for Van Gogh’s l’Arlesienne. Meddows’ Mrs. Eldridge on her way to a club is a crowd-stunner. The French influences here come to a head with Sophia Brown’s French instructor, and all three join forces as crones, lacking only a specific discussion of eye of newt to tidy things up. Don’t bother keeping track of exactly who does what until the show is over, just go with the current.

Jef Awada directed the production and keeps us on the first floor of the house, moving us from room to room but avoiding those climbs up and down staircases that marked last year’s work. Robin McGee’s costumes are deliciously done, and James Robey choreographed the considerable dance work done by the young ones. The young, unnamed banjo player adds yet another bit of pleasure.

There is little seating, and a great deal of shifting about, part of the fun but something to be kept in mind.

Not one of Williams’ greatest works, but a fine example of making the most of what one has. The run on this goes beyond the Festival itself.